


And It Was All Yellow

by ScarletteStar1



Series: I WILL FIND YOU- AU and Canon Divergent Stories about OTPs Reaching Across Time and Space To Be Where They Belong [4]
Category: Fringe (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Love, Song fic, Walstrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 14:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15932633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: Astrid had never thought of Walter as an old man, or even as an older man. Astrid had always thought of Walter simply as her other half. His was the shadow that curled into hers at night and walked next to her by day. He was the second beat that made her heart work. . . . The fact he had a decent thirty years on her barely even filtered into her consciousness. . . until he got sick.





	And It Was All Yellow

The grocery store in their neighborhood didn’t sell boxes of just the root beer flavored popsicles. And that was what he wanted and that was what he had to have. So she bought five boxes of assorted flavors and picked out the root beer ones.

“You and your weird food issues, Walter,” she whispered as she packed the into the small sized cooler that they took with them to his treatments. But really it made Astrid smile. Personally, she hated the root beer popsicles. She popped a couple lime ones into the cooler just in case she decided to have one later. The rest she chucked into the trash.

What he would really crave would be a strawberry milkshake, but those didn’t sit so well in his stomach. She’d learned her lesson the hard way after treatment number two.

“His numbers are looking good!” The doctor said cheerfully. Astrid tried not to bite the fuchsia lipstick off her lips. Every day was a day.

His corduroy pants had grown baggy, even with a belt. One day he walked up to her in the kitchen, wiggled his hips, and they fell down around his ankles. Naturally he was not wearing any underpants. He looked at her over his shoulder and grinned. He wagged his eyebrows. “Come on Astro!” He cheered. “You know you want some of this action!” She’d giggled helplessly and slapped his boney ass, but then he winced in discomfort at her touch and she felt terrible. Still he turned back around and proudly displayed his erection as though it were the only one ever known to human kind.

Those were the good days. The days when he could make a little joke and get her to laugh at how horrible it all was.

The nurse got him settled in the chair and started the IV. He pulled out a popsicle from the cooler and pushed it up through its wrapper. He handed her a lime one and she opened it and sucked on it in a suggestive way that made him roll his eyes and grin. “Oh yeah,” he said, but his attempt at being humorous was as half hearted as Astrid’s.

For a few moments they were quiet, sucking their popsicles. Maybe it was the muddy brown color Astrid didn’t like. Maybe they didn’t taste that bad. Maybe they just reminded her that this was where they were. She tried to rationalize her dislike of root beer popsicles.

“Hey,” he said suddenly. “Did you ever hear that song where the guy is singing to his girl and he keeps saying it’s all yellow?”

“Do you mean the song Yellow by Coldplay,” Astrid asked. “Yeah. I like that song. It’s pretty.”

“I heard it the other day in the car with Peter and it made me think of you.” He reached for her hand with the hand that had the IV in it, but then switched his popsicle to that hand, and reached for her with the other. She wrapped her fingers around his and squeezed. He leaned his head back against the recliner.

Peter had been trying to give Astrid some support in caring for his father. He was a good son, but he had Olivia and the twins to worry about, so Astrid never felt completely comfortable turning to him for assistance.

“Do you want another pillow?” She asked him. She had to clear her throat to get the words out. These days made her want to weep from start to finish, but she knew if she started she would never stop. _There will be a time for that after_ , she thought. It was a miserable thought. So, she wanted to get up and get a pillow or a heated blanket or another pair of socks, or a magazine, or anything to keep herself in motion. _As long as you stay in motion_ , she thought. She had read that somewhere once, and it was proving to be true.

“My dear, I’m just fine. Thank you,” he said. She could tell he was tired, but he sucked off the last of his popsicle and put the stick down on the table next to him. She picked up his popsicle stick and her half finished popsicle and got up to get some paper towels to wrap them in and threw them in the trash. It briefly crossed her mind to put them in her pocketbook to save them as momentos. _Momento mor_ i, she thought and then she felt disgusting and ashamed. When she turned back to him, his head was back against the chair and his eyes were closed. He didn’t see her blushing about the popsicle sticks. He resembled a sleepy cat.

For a moment she thought he’d drifted off to sleep. The anti-nausea medication that they gave him made him sleepy. And also he’d taken a few hits of his “special blend” prior to getting in the car, and then while they were in the car, and then prior to exiting the car. The nights had been difficult and Astrid had been awake with him for long, hard hours over the past weeks, so she didn’t particularly care what he smoked, or where he smoked it so long as it gave him a few minutes rest.

“And you were all yellow,” he sang, suddenly, but under his breath. He opened his eyes to peek at her.

“You know I look horrible in yellow,” she said.

“I didn’t know that. I can’t imagine that you would look horrible in any color, except perhaps puce. No one can possibly look attractive or even healthy in puce.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever owned anything yellow in my life. But still, it is a pretty song.” She sat down in the chair near him and pulled it a few inches closer with a scratching noise. “Should I see if we can get tickets to go to a Coldplay concert?”

“Oh, do they play around here?” He asked with those wide, hazel eyes.

“Who knows? But if you want to go, I’ll find out. Phillip has some connections in the entertainment business. I can ask him.” She put her hand on his thigh and tried not to wince when she felt how thin it had become.

Astrid had never thought of Walter as an old man, or even as an older man. Astrid had always thought of Walter simply as her other half. His was the shadow that curled into hers at night and walked next to her by day. He was the second beat that made her heart work. He was as intricately intwined with her as her own fingerprints. The fact he had a decent thirty years on her barely even filtered into her consciousness. . . until he got sick. Almost overnight he went from a vital being to a wizened creature she barely recognized by sight. But it didn’t matter. When she heard his voice she knew he was the other half that made her whole.

Feeling his boney thigh nearly made her choke with grief.

 _But his numbers are good his numbers are good. His numbers are good!!! His numbers are good his numbersaregoodhisnumbersaregoodhisnumbersaregoodhisnumbersaregood_. .. . she chanted it over and over. _Another day is another day._

She tried to picture him back in his office at Harvard, preparing his lectures. She tried to imagine him full of energy and temper when he didn’t get his way, like he was when she’d first met him as his grad student assistant all those years ago.

Walter had closed his eyes again and put his head back. “Are you tired,” she asked him.

“Yes. A little bit. I didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“I’d never have known from your orchestral arrangement of Row, Row, Row Your Boat. I mean, I never knew that could sound so amazing on the ukulele,” Astrid said with a smile.

“Oh, did that keep you up? I am so sorry my dear. Why don’t you go out and get some lunch? There is that little place around the corner where you can get that nice sushi.”

“I don’t want to leave you here all by yourself, Walter,” she said.

“Please,” he said and gave her a preemptive look of apology. “I’ll be here a while and you should take five, uh, while you can,” he said and looked around the room anxiously. She assumed he was thinking about what would come later, when they got home, when she had to roll up her sleeves and put her head down to become the bearer of cool cloths, the emptier of basins filled with vomit, the waitress bearing saltines and ginger ale, and the task master who refused him tacos and ice cream sundaes at three in the morning. It was not a role she’d imagined for herself, especially not at 33. “I’d love to sit and read the paper,” he stated and reached for the complimentary newspaper on the stand next to him.

“You never read the paper,” she said.

“Yes. Well, it’s never too late to begin a new thing, is it? Don’t you tell me that all the time?”

“I tell you that about stuff like learning to pick up your socks and remembering to wear pants when you leave the house, Walter.”

“First of all, you know pants are optional on Tuesdays. Second of all, we are all marvelous works in progress. I will try harder about the socks. Now leave me with my paper.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. He grabbed her chin with his untethered hand and gave her a dry kiss on the lips. She tucked a curl behind her ear and stood up. He smiled. “What?” She asked.

“I just looked down your blouse,” he said and pressed his lips together in a feline grin.

“Oh, Walter,” she said. She had the urge to slap his arm in a playful manner, but she checked it. She was afraid of hurting him.

She walked out onto the city streets She didn’t have much appetite for lunch so she wandered up and down the streets near the hospital. There were a few shops. It briefly crossed her mind in one to buy a colorful scarf that looked like it was made out of antique saris. She pushed them down the rack, admiring the patterns and letting the silky fabric slip between her fingertips. But then she felt like she didn’t want one. She left the shop and walked on.

She looked at some up-cycled artsy stuff. Jewelry made out of repurposed clock parts and the like. She warmed up as she walked and it was hot in the next shop she went into. She thought about unzipping the deep purple jacket she wore, but for some reason, she couldn’t make her hand do it. She felt the sweat gather on the small of her back and in her arm pits and it felt terrible. She wondered what Walter would say about a miniature robot made out of a melted vinyl record. _That better not be a Bowie! Melting perfect art to make sub par art? Well, that is just some bizarre cannabilism I’ve never seen before. Terrible!_ She smiled, knowing it was exactly what he would say.

Someone had once told her loving someone means seeing the world through two sets of eyes- your own, and theirs. For Astrid, it meant constantly hearing Walter’s voice making random observations and commentary about random things.

Back on the street, she walked past a flower shop. Buckets of water held flowers out on the sidewalk, trying to tempt consumers. Pink carnations. Baby’s breath. Phallic looking lilies with bulbous, gleaming stamens ( _I mean, who actually likes those things?_ She thought.). There was a pail full of roses dyed a macabre blue.

It crossed her mind to buy Walter some of the blue roses just to show him what an awful color they were. How unnatural. She thought she could make a joke out of it, present them with some awful, sappy card for an even that was totally inappropriate But then she thought about all the cards they would never get for things like baby showers, christenings, anniversaries. The thought made her pissy because she hated feeling sorry for herself.

_I should be back there, she thought Every minute. . ._

_Every minute of what?_

The thought trailed off.

Her feet kept moving and she walked past the flower shop. She thought about going into a bar and having a glass of wine. A crisp sauvignon blanc would be just the thing. But she didn’t want to go back to him with alcohol on her breath. It would make him worried and nauseous.

As she let go of the fantasy of cool, straw-colored alcohol, she wondered if there were a place for a mani/pedi, but then she didn’t really feel like she had time for that.

She walked up a hill. She felt the sweat drip from the hollow of her back, down to the cleft of her bottom. It was a disgusting feeling. Still, she did not unzip her jacket and she kept walking. She walked into a little park. There was a grubby fountain emitting a squat gurgle of water In the freshly tilled soil at the base of it were fluffy bunches of daffodils.

She stared at them. She looked around her. Reaching down, she yanked three of them out of their bed. For a moment, she stood there, holding them. Her heart raced in her chest like she was a kid scared of getting caught.

 _Keep moving. You’’ll be okay as long as you keep moving._ Where the hell had she heard that before?

She sped walked back to the hospital. By the time she got back, she was breathing hard. Her hands were gritty with dirt from the flowers she snatched. She ducked into the ladies’ room before going back to Walter. She fixed her hair and put on some lipstick. She washed her hands and then washed them again By the time she completed these tasks her heart had slowed and she was ready.

His head was back and his eyes were closed, and he didn’t open them when she came in so she assumed he was dozing. He looked pale. She had an urge to slap or pinch his cheeks to bring some color into them, but she checked it. She’d never hurt him.

She took a sheet of his newspaper and wrapped it around the dafodils. He heard her crinkle the paper and looked up.

“Hey,” he yawned.

“Hi,” she said and proudly extended her purloined posey. “I stole you some flowers.”

“Now that’s my girl,” he said. “You shouldn’t have. No, really, Astrid, you shouldn’t have. I should be buying you flowers. I should have exotic bunches of night blooming jasmine flown in for you from Egypt.” She put the bouquet on the table next to his popsicle cooler. They looked gravely at one another. “You’re back so soon. They still have another bag of this poison to run through me.”

“Do you need anything?”

“I’d love a cruller,” he sighed. “And a couple hits of my Brown Betty.”

“I’ll go down and see if they have any in the cafeteria. As for the other stuff, I think you’re going to have to wait until we get to the car at least.”

“Maybe in a bit, that cruller would be nice. But right now, would you just sit there next to the flowers so I can look at you?” He squinted at her as she positioned herself in her chair in front of the flowers. She unzipped her jacket and shrugged it off. “Beautiful.”

“Oh you. You’re just an old charmer,” she smiled.

“Yes. It’s true. I am. I say that to all the girls, don’t I Linda?” He said and looked up at the nurse who came in and looked at the lines running into his arm.

“I guess our little secret is out now,” she said fondly. “Sorry Astrid.”

Astrid tried to smile and even to laugh a little, but something about the forced humor, and something about the way it was being done for her benefit made her stomach roll over. “Excuse me,” she said and popped up out of the chair. She rain into the bathroom, slammed the door and threw herself down in front of the toilet. Her throat convulsed and a trickle of sweet, green slime came up and out of her. She coughed violently. There was nothing more in her, and yet her body seemed determined to turn itself inside out with retching.

She thought about the smell of incense in the shop with the silk scarves. She thought about the way a cruller would leave a translucent smear of grease on the paper in which it was wrapped. She thought of the little otter in her belly, how it was possibly turning over and over, spinning around without her even feeling it.

After she wiped her face and rinsed her mouth, she went back out to Walter. Mercifully, he’d fallen asleep. She pulled her chair right up next to his, as close as she could. He snored lightly. She sat down and took his hand, the one without any IV lines in it. She brought it over to her, and she put it on her stomach. She leaned her head on his shoulder and she tried to catch the wave of his breath, hoping against hope that by breathing exactly the same cadence, they could turn the raw material of their flesh and bones into something more beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment!!! I love hearing from you and try to respond to everyone. Warmest regards from this side of the universe!


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